freedom to fly
by angeloid type heta - tsumi
Summary: Ichigo is a patch preist in training and also seen as an outsider to her village. forced to compete in the shaman fights ichigo must make a choice between the bonds she forms and her family ties - who will she chose to follow? oc centric story
1. Chapter 1

Stealy purple eyes survayed the scene unfolding before them, countless tribal members gathered in the same squair meter of ground, all josstaling for front possition and the right to be noticed by the 10 official preists of the shaman tournement.  
>The event of 500 years had arrived, sparking exsitment throught the village people, tilting their small worlds into joyfull chaos, for them it was a time of celebration, a time to hail the arival of the new shaman king and beging a new calinder to mark the passing of time...for me...it was unknown evil. a chaos that threatened to envelop my world and destroy it for a second time.<br>The holy spirit was the light and hope of the universe, the one savious we could all count upon in our time of need, something to govern both life and death, but also the controller of chaos and distruction. my eyes flitted over the 10 ulgy masks that the official tornement preists we're forced to adorn, for once i had never been more glad to be unofficial.  
>I watched in both facination and anger as goldva, the patch leader, my last remaning relative threw his arms in the air and cleared his throwt causing the 10 preists of the tournement to part on the stage and make space for the small man who struck so much fear into the tribe.<br>"the time has come...the start of the tournement is now upon us" the crowed below watched in something akin to awe. something i would never and have never felt for the old man stood infront of me. with little more then a flick of his wrist the preists took to the sky, leaving me with my old man "let us prepare!" the final words were met with a hearty cheer from the croud, some waving and others talking amongst themselves. i however wantted nothing more then to be out of this village...the place i was percived as a freak, the place that had taught me nothing more than hatered towads the differences people may have...the differances i had.

The clatter of feet and shuffaling of ceramonial robes di nothing to ease my nerves as i watched eatch of the 10 presits make their way off the stage, only one of them paying me any attention via a small incline of the creepy mask that was fastened to his face...Silva...he was more of a relative to me then Goldva could ever hope to be. taking my place behind the older preist i stepped from the stage, not that anyone had noticed me, stuffed in the back corner, tucked away from the tribe like a dirty little secreat. With a bitter scowl still twisted upon my face i turned to attention with the rest of the holy shaman tournement keepers  
>"as of now the offical shaman tornement has begun...go"<p>

the old cheiftans voice echoed around the empty room at the back of the stage  
>each preist had left on the word go with nothing more the the flurry of clokes.<br>the dark exspretion the old man had held softened considerably as his eyes focused on a specific patch of now empty floor, the spot where the only female of the preist 10 stood  
>"now is the time ichigo...make me proud my grandchild..."<p> 


	2. descrete is not his middle name nor mine

Japan a place of wonder and mystery. somewhere that still beilieves heavly in myths and legands, somewhere that at this currant moment in time i do not wish to be.  
>Silva had kindly deposited me within the nearest open cafe and bid me fairwell, my task now was to enter survive the first half of the shaman tournement and make it back to patch village. A heavy sigh left me as i pushed myself up out of the metal cafe chair i had occupied for the last 3 hours, no matter how much i mopped around Silva asn't going to come and pick me up again and the one glass of lemonade i had been nursing all this time was startting to earn me some dirtly looks form the cafe owners.<br>apparenlty sympathy was only served deppending on the amount of money dished out by a customer, not one who sit's there nursing the same glass for three hours glairing holes in the small wooden table that she sat at.  
>huching my shoulders in agravation i pulled on the sleves of my red duffle coat and fastened the buttons, it was particularly cold but i was used to hotter weather, a lot hotter.<br>stepping into the street i stuffed my hands in my pockets, my mouth set in a thin line as i scowled at the pavement passing under my feet. Where i was heading i had no clue, i deffinatly wasn't going to head home, that was out of the question, for once i was thankfull that it was evening.  
><em>'i could always ask Silva-kun if he would give me enough money for a hotel or maybe even if i could just stay with him...then gain he's and old grump so i doubt he w...'<br>_**"kiotsukete!"** the shout was shrill and panicky but loud enough to startle me from my thoughts. snapping my head up i managed to drag my foot back to the pavment just as a car sped past, the drive honking the horn as he glaired at me through the passinger window  
>"..t..that was a close call, look before you walk next time!"<br>"hai, thank..." my sentace was cut off as i raised an eyebrow at the empty space next to me on the cross road, even with shamanc abilitys this was unusual to say the least, air couldn't just talk...could it?  
>An annoyed coughing sound caught my attention, causing me to look at the floor.<br>No taller then knee hight stood a kid with cropped golden hair, a book clutched tightly in his hands as a vain throbbed slightly in his head. The new revalation caused me to laugh sheepishly, embarissed that i had completely overlooked the person who had preactiacly saved my life  
>my mouth opened ready to thank the person only to have my sentance cut in half by a sharp, cold snigger "this city is full of pathetic shaman..."<br>That aura...that sent and that cold air could only belong to one thing...a lost shaman.  
>Keeping my eyes fixed on the smaller boy i stepped forward instinctivly, my body now stood between the child and the pulsating aura of the new arival, i got the feeling that i would be nothing more then calatural damage if i added to the allready flamable atmosphear.<br>"theres no stars in tokyo...don't you agree?..." his mouth moved but no sound seemed to register as i looked at the stranger, he wore an exstreamly knoticable mustard yellow jacket with a pair of tight school shorts, the blaizer was buttoned up fully, only letting the collar of his shit poke over the top, his hair was a deep purple and pulled into a spike towards the back but the most noticable thing about the shaman was his eyes, cold and crule was the only thing i could describe them as.  
>as if they had never seen warmth or love<br>"stars are the lights that guied us, those who can't see the light will lose their path and die.."...  
>well this guy was a barrel of laughs...<br>_"wait the lights still red!" _it wasn't the boys voice that caused my head to snap up and stair at the idiot who had just willingly walked into the road (unlike myself) it was the spike of furyoku in the air.

A blure of golden light inveloped the shaman, followed by the screaching sound of metal on concreate. with my ears still ringing i subconciously wrapped my hand around the back of the smaller boys shirt and hoisted up into my arms, the bumpper of the now split truck landing where he was stood moments ago.  
><em><br>'the idiot! is he trying to draw attention to us or is he just to stupid to realize that seeing a truck chopped in half is not a regular occurance for most people waiting at a cross light?' _

My eyes narrowed in frustration as the boy turned and stepped off the cross roads, talking over his shoulder to the small boy, a triumphant smirk plastered across his face, i wasn't sure at that moment if it was anger or fear i felt towards the slightly phsycotic shaman, i had never met someone who was so willing to throw away a life to prove a point.

"well next time why don't you go all out and murder the truck driver pal!..." my voice came out in little more then a venomous hiss making the boy in my arms cough nervously, his face twisted into a worried grimace "i wouldn't really anger him if i were you hes dangerous!"  
>My eyes fell to the back of the boys head as i carried on holding him tightly, as if his small stature would ward off any more on-coming shaman attacks "maybe we should find your mum before kid..." the rest of my sentanced was cut across by a loud high pitched wailing, it took me a moment to realise that the small boy in my arms was shreiking like a banshee<br>"my name is oyamada manta! and i am not a kid!" i couldn't help it, i burst out laughing.  
>i felt horrable for doing it but i couldn't stop myself.<p>

after about 5 minuets and 3 missed crosslights i calmed down enough to drop manta on his feet, a stich pulling viciously at my side as i tried to breath properly "sorry oyamada-san"  
>the boy gave little more then a 'humph' before crossing his arms and waiting for the light to turn green "i get it a lot..." i'm sure the statment was more to stop my guilt but looking up and seeing manta's eyes glued to the road in front of me did nothing but fuel my guily, i out of most people should have knonw what its like to be treated differently and yet i was practicaly laughing in this boys face at something he couldn't help.<br>A wave of guilt crashed over me as the light changed from red to green, letting the blond haired boy next to me scurry across and through the croud. 


End file.
